Page 78 of Catch
heart in my throat
You were just doin’ your job,
now I’m writing this note
You weren’t just heat
You weren’t just desire
You were the match
That lit my heart on fire
So many words, so many lines.
For me, none of them pieced an entire song together, but it wasn’t the song she wanted me to see. It was the words and the feelings that she felt along the way. And seeing our story strung together through her eyes was incredible. It made me love her even more.
The one she’d left on top still haunted me, though. The one where she said she was leaving to save me. That she loved me enough to save me. At the time, I’d been too blinded by my own pain to see it for what it was. All I could focus on was the fact that she’d left without a word, packing up and disappearing while I slept, knowing it would tear me apart. But now, as I read her words again, something clicked. She truly believed that leaving was formysake, that something had made her think she was protecting me.
That realization brought me to the very back of the amphitheater with the resolution that I wasn’t leaving without her. Whatever she thought she needed to save me from, she was wrong. The only thing I needed was her.
I stayed in the shadows as the show started, aware of the empty seat waiting for me in the front row. Watching her up there, under the lights, she truly was a star. She performed so flawlessly that, for a moment, I questioned everything. Maybe I’d misunderstood her words. Maybe I was wrong.
But then the rain started to fall, and everything changed.
I felt the shift before I even saw it. The energy in the air tightened and I flashed my ticket at the usher so I could begin making my way through the crowd. Weaving between screaming fans, I tried to get closer, not wanting to miss a second of whatever seemed to be happening.
Then I heard her whisper into the microphone.
“I can’t do this.”
She didn’t run, didn’t leave the stage. Instead, she shrugged off her rain-soaked jacket and turned to her guitarist.
Reluctantly, he handed her his guitar, stepping back as she adjusted the strap.
“The truth is,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “I wasn’t sick at all.”
The crowd murmured, confused, but her honesty kept them hooked.
“I got caught speeding through a small town in Georgia and… I met someone. Someone who took my breath away.” Her voice grew stronger. “He gave me an escape when I needed it most. He became the muse for every lyric I’ve written these past few weeks.” She paused, looking out at the crowd. “And as much as I love being on this stage and performing for y’all… I gotta go get my man.”
The crowd erupted in cheers, rooting for her happiness even as she told them she had to leave.
“Bear with me,” she said, adjusting the guitar. “I’m going to do something I’ve never done. Something I’ve never beenallowedto do. I’m going to play you a song straight from my heart. One I wrote in the middle of the night. One I never thought would see the light of day.” She gave a small, vulnerable smile. “I love y’all. I truly do. And you deserve to know the real Loxley.”
I thought she’d play the song she left for me, the one she wrote as a goodbye. But instead, she played something different. A song about growing up. About missing her brother. About finding strength in taking risks. There was a line toward the end about no longer being afraid, and as she sang it, her eyes closed and her voice cracked with emotion.
By the time she hit the last note, I was in the front row, gripping the metal barrier as if it were the only thing keeping me grounded. The crowd roared with excitement, chanting her name as she opened her eyes. Her gaze swept over the front row, and for a moment, her smile faltered when her eyes met mine. Then realization dawned, and she froze.
She handed her guitar to her guitarist and moved to the edge of the stage, dropping to her knees. Without hesitation, she jumped down, the staff rushing to follow her as she ran straight into my arms.
She clung to me, trembling, her tears soaking into my shirt.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I whispered, holding her as tightly as I could. “I’m here. I’m so sorry it took me this long.”
“I’m sorry,” she kept repeating, her voice breaking as she cried into my shoulder. “I was about to run back to Harmony Haven, I swear.”
“Hey.” I pulled back just enough to press my forehead to hers. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Finish the show, and we’ll figure this out together.”
